


Cold Ballerina

by MonochromeDreams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: An exercise in description, Dancing, Drabble, Flexibility, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonochromeDreams/pseuds/MonochromeDreams
Summary: Guess what Hanamaki got.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Cold Ballerina

**Author's Note:**

> There's nothing graphic here just suggestive

Matsukawa’s eyes track the fluid motion of long legs hooking around a chrome pole. Easy, like a caterpillar crawling it’s way across a leaf, Takahiro inches his way up. Hand over hand, calves pressed into cold metal caught in a slow spin. 

His first thought was to complain, about how dark it was, about the pink lights glinting off the pole’s polished surface, anything to distract from how uncomfortably fast his heart is beating.

He makes it look easy.

Makki sits, one leg crossed and thighs squeezed tight around the pole. His shorts draw up tight, black, wet, and glassy looking, highlighted by just the right amount of rose pink. Undoubtedly, carefully curated by the master himself to make the globe of his ass just that much more thicker. Issei stares until his eyes can’t keep up with the dizzying increase in speed. 

Gloved hands clasp tight around the pole, rosy pink highlights every shift in Hiro’s muscles as he leans back, slow and deliberate.

He has learned, in his 26 years on earth, that oxygen is the basis of all human life and if one ceases breathing or if they are deprived of oxygen then they are as good as dead.

He deflates. One long exhale, Takahiro’s next revolution is as vicious as the last.

“The gloves make it harder, right?”

Makki smiles, lets go of the pole to adjust the glove already squeezed tight over his forearms and biceps.

“Do I look like I’m havin’ a hard time?” 

By the way his legs swing down, all control and sinew, he doubts it. 

Surprisingly, he can hear him over the steady thump of music. Clear and playful and like he knows every damn thing and then some. Makki hangs, body straight, toes pointed. Another revolution around the pole pencil straight, before pulling up his hips to meet the pole in a clean,  _ clean _ straddle. The little smirk looks good and he’s lucky enough to catch a hint of mischief in his eye before the pole spins again. His eyes look even darker under the pink lighting.

“Guess what I got.” Hanamaki says, hooking a knee around the pole.

It could be any number of things, a new pole, better dancing shoes, some common sense, a deal with the devil. Issei watches him tuck his waist close and secure to the pole, the shiny black of his heel catches the strip lights when he moves his free leg towards his chest.

“Some help?” Issei tries.

“Try again.” He purrs, gripping his ankle and pulling that long leg in tight to his chest. 

Issei remembers suggesting that he shouldn’t get too big for his boots just yet.  _ Pick a shorter heel _ . 

He’s starting to understand why Takahiro insisted on possibly breaking his neck. His leg is  _ long _ even with the other hooked around the pole, straight and sharp, the point of his heel is a knife cutting carelessly through the air in the room.

He swallows.

“That’s a good look on you.” Hanamaki says, as the pole slows its revolution. Finally he unhooks the leg he’s hanging from, pushing it out into one _ maddeningly _ straight line. Toes pointed, one hundred and eighty beautifully straight, painfully flexible degrees . “But, seriously, guess what I got.”

He holds the pose, palm pressed against his bottom like it's the only thing holding him up. 

There was power in Hanamaki’s leg back in high school and it's there today, too, but there’s this smug little glint in his eye now. One he’d never have been able to muster up back then and he’s lost in it.

“At least congratulate me.” Hanamaki huffs.

He would like to, but Matsukawa Issei can’t come to the phone right now.

“What’s that one called again?”

“Jade split, hip hold split. Whatever.” Makki says, bringing his leg back to the pole. “All that matters is that this fucker is up to code.”

“How long can you hold it?” There’s a little feeling running rampant in his chest, the music is telling him to do it. It’s the bass or maybe the knowledge that he’s in his home with an incredibly beautiful man.

“Not as long as I want.” 

Issei watches the graceful dismount. He’s thankful they sprung for the apartment with the good hardwood flooring. He could have swore this room was a nice dusky pink before all the dark red really does wonders for Makki’s skin.

“Let’s work on that, hate for you to fall out of code.”

**Author's Note:**

> Get your boots and your coat


End file.
